All Deadlines Passed (a poem)

“All Deadlines Passed”*

All deadlines passed, all actions for next year,
six months, a handful of weeks or more…
no profits will bring profit.

Streets fill with, until now, strangers, foes,
setting out chairs and tables and the last
of food, drink, treasures tucked away
for future needs, needed no longer.

Tell your stories now to one another,
finding more in common, openness…
nothing left but time to listen, time
to heal, to care, to understand

that nothing matters now but knowing
no one need ever be alone
until the world itself
shall end.

Copyright © 2015-07-21, by Liz Bennefeld. All rights reserved.

*I’ve broken out this poem from a post that contains two poems on a theme, published 20 July 2015.

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